Characters: Hisana, Byakuya
Summary: She doesn't tell him until her body tells him for her.
Pairings: ByaHisa
Warnings/Spoilers: Spoilers for Soul Society arc
Timeline: pre-manga
Disclaimer: I don't own Bleach.

At the first, she says nothing. When she coughs, when her body is so wracked with pain that she can barely stand—but she does keep on her feet, with back straight, because even if Hisana came from peasant stock she is a lady now, and she will not show pain—she says nothing. When blood spots her hand, she says nothing. When her vision blurs, and goes dark—maybe only for a quarter of a second, maybe for a lot longer—she says nothing.

What can she say?

She can not think of the words to say to tell her husband, or anyone else. Even her maidservant has no idea, or if she does—if she sees the blood flecks on white linen and silk—she keeps her silence herself.

Hisana looks at Byakuya, hard and long, with eyes wide and mouth slightly open, forming words she doesn't think she can say (words she's never said; words that ought to have been spoken long ago; words that her poor, unworthy heart can never bear to even whisper despairingly into the night), and she looks at him.

He doesn't know. He looks happier than she's ever seen him. The man, quiet, reticent, so reserved, so withdrawn. And still, he was made to love, just as all of mankind is. She can see it in his eyes.

She can't tell him.

Hisana decides that, in the end, she will just die quietly. She will fade away, like ink on parchment left out in the sun.

She will die quietly, and never say a word to him. Never erase that look of simple, quiet happiness from his face.

Hisana never says a word.

But eventually, her body betrays her, and tells him for her.

She collapses, on her knees, coughing, and when her husband takes her hand, he comes away with blood coating his.

He looks at her, and Hisana knows that the happiness dying on Byakuya's face is the worst death of all.

It is the final death, before the death of flesh.